Sometimes you whisper things to God, half afraid, but trusting. And of course, God hears.

So of course, when I whispered, “Lord, am I trusting you fully to take care of me?”

He let me know. 

My church does first fruits which is a sacrificial giving above and beyond regular tithe near Thanksgiving. No one is pressured into it; it’s personal and from the heart. The week before, I got my dates mixed up and wrote out my big check. It felt good. I wasn’t sweating it. Then I realized it was for next week and tucked it away and wrote a check for that week’s offering.

Flash forward to the *next day*. I woke up that Monday, stuck my keys in my car, and noticed shiny glass pieces all over my dash, all throughout my car, and followed it to the smashed back window. That morning, I was offered a ride to work. That night, my boyfriend brought over his Dad’s shop vac and spent a solid hour and a half after work helping me get all the glass bits out. Wednesday, I spent half the day waiting for the repair truck to fit a new rear window and swiped a few hundred dollars away with a card and signature for the fix.

I was so upset. Why did the vandals target my car?  Three cars in the neighborhood got smashed and mine happened to be one of them. And my car insurance wasn’t going to cover a dime, even with the police report because it was under my $500 deductible…

That Sunday was first fruits. I sat with the check in my purse, knowing rent was due the following week and I was about to give a big check after spending a good chunk of money on that window repair. And I was behind on my credit card payment. And Christmas was coming up.

So many sinking feelings. So many things that needed money. But that check was God’s.

The offering basket was a couple passes away. I cleared my mind maybe not fully trusting, but trying to, and acknowledged as I placed it in,

This was already yours, God. Before the circumstances. I know you’ll take care of me.

Money. The future. Security. Those are things I’m not fully trusting of. But with that check in the basket, I began to let go, so I could let God.